Wednesday, May. 26, 2004 | 1:47 PM

He makes me vanilla chamomile tea with milk and sugar and he knows exactly how much milk and sugar I want.

He calls me the Empress and Moon Goddess of the Seventh House.

He writes songs about me and songs for me to sing. He understands my voice perfectly and knows exactly what to do to bring out its best qualities.

When he kisses me I tremble.

He usually calls me on the phone twice a day.

He cooks me dinner.

He holds my hand when we�re in public.

Several times we�ve ran into his friends, and when he introduces me they always say something to the affect of,

Oh you�re the infamous Anna. God�I�ve heard SO much about you�

He writes me florid emails about how much he cares about me and how proud of me he is.

He discourages my negative self destructive behavior and encourages my positive behavior, but in such a way that it doesn�t feel like nagging.

Every moment that I spend with him he makes me feel beautiful and loved.

He makes me want to be a better person. He makes me want to live longer. He forces me to be honest.

He loves me as much as I love him.

And he�s brilliant, snarky, sociable, charismatic, hip, courageous, honest, assertive, and completely crushable.

Honestly. Wouldn�t you give up the little white pills and that bottle of scotch, too? I�d have been a fool not to.

And you know what? I woke up this morning and I felt wonderful. Better than I have in years. Fuck drinking and drugs.

I have love. And that�s way better.